


A Beginning

by mordorisleft



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Tent Sex, and one thing leads to another i mean.... whoops, basically 2 weeks have passed, post-BotFA, so thranduil has emotions and wants to check up on bard, yay who doesnt love tent sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordorisleft/pseuds/mordorisleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two weeks since the dreaded battle for the mountain and Bard is exhausted. But he finds himself being mysteriously summoned to King Thranduil's tent on the eve of their leave, at ass o'clock in the morning. Honestly, it better be for a good reason or Bard is going to be one grumpy fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was actually the first fic I ever wrote for these two... I wrote it like... in January at some point and it was basically just for myself and my friend and I totally just dismissed it until last night. I re-read it and it was actually... pretty good. Do you ever re-read your old fics and you're like, how?!?!
> 
> Anyway, so I did a little bit of editing and here it is. I remember I originally wrote this as Thranduil cornering Bard after the battle in a ruin of Dale and someone gave a blow job... or was trying to? I'm not sure. But now it's developed into this, because what's better than tent sex? (*whispers* throne sex - there is no throne sex in this just clearing that up unfortunately...)
> 
> I'll stop babbling - here be sexy times!

When Bard finally reached the decorative flaps of the Elven King’s tent, he stopped just before entering. Bard was still confused as to why he was here, not sure as to why the King had summoned him at such a late hour. Most of the political discussions had almost been concluded, and the elves were set out to leave in the morning. So it was odd that Bard found himself called upon by personal request of King Thranduil himself after all matters had been settled.

It had only been two weeks since the battle and Bard still hadn’t fully recovered. He had been exhausted since those dwarves set foot in his home in Laketown, and hadn’t really had a moment to properly rest. With having the leadership of what was left of his people thrust upon him, a massive and impromptu battle, and then the aftermath of said battle to clean up, Bard had barely any time to eat, never mind sleep. With a sigh, Bard regrouped what was left of his strength and strode into the King’s tent, unsure of what to expect.

The King’s tent was quite large, which was unsurprising as it _was_ for Thranduil – one who could expect no less. It was pristinely decorated and spacious enough for at least 5 families to be sheltered into its warmth. The thought made Bard boil with anger but he pushed aside the thoughts when he stopped a few steps from the back of the King.

“You have called upon me, King Thranduil.” When there was no response, he grew a little annoyed. “Might I ask why, at such a late hour? If it is nothing of importance I must get back –“ to bed he wanted to finish but he was cut off when Thranduil suddenly spun around to face him in a flurry of white and silver.

“I just wished to see how you were fairing, young dragonslayer,” came the King’s melodic voice. It had a hint of amusement to it, which normally would have irritated Bard further if it weren’t for the word’s Thranduil had spoken.

“I- uh, we are doing quite fine, thank-you,” came Bard’s surprised response.

Thranduil looked up at his tone, and Bard could tell he had not managed to fool him in the slightest. Thranduil slowly glided closer to him and Bard suddenly felt like prey being stalked by an animal. He swallowed heavily and tried again.

“It’s been quite tiresome after the battle, with cleaning up Dale, and re-learning our lives, burying our dead; but we’re managing,” his voice didn’t waver once and he couldn’t help but feel proud over that fact, with how daunting the Elven King was.

“I didn’t ask how your _people_ were, I asked about _you_ ,” the King’s voice was so soft, Bard almost missed he had said anything at all.

Thranduil’s sharp eyes were watching him intently and Bard felt his body warm up under the King’s gaze. He forced himself to compose his features and meet the King’s eye, level. Immediately he knew this was a mistake, because he felt his walls start to crumble the second their eyes connected.

He tried to smile once more, but he knew that this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “I…” he started. Bard closed his eyes and began again. “Silence had always been a comfort to me… I always loved the silence of the lake… how even the slightest whisper could be carried miles, upon miles across it… and now I fear all I will be able to hear in silence is the echoing screams of dragon fire and the bloodshed of children.”

He met Thranduil’s gaze again, his own filled with unshed tears and his body slumped. “Their cries will echo in my heart forever.”

His legs gave out, but Thranduil caught him in a tight embrace. Bard clutched at Thranduil’s back, and he buried his face in the Elven King’s chest just before the first sob wracked his body. Thranduil lowered them down till they sat upon the edge of the King’s massive bed.

Bard burrowed in tighter to the warm chest in front of him as he let out all of the pain and grief he had been holding inside. A hand was stroking his hair, gently pulling at the knots with no clear motivation and after a while he felt his body start to relax and his tears dry.

Somewhere in the midst of his breakdown, his face had moved up and buried in Thranduil’s neck. He breathed in, and the once foreign smell that Bard could never infuriatingly pinpoint other than being distinctly _Thranduil_ was almost immediately comforting now. The hands on the back of his head stilled and he pulled back slightly, worried he hand angered the Elven King, but he was only allowed a small movement before he was stopped by firm hands.

He looked up at Thranduil and when he saw the soft look in the King’s eyes, he felt his body moving forward of it’s own accord, heart beating in his ears. He let out a small sigh when his lips slotted against Thranduil’s.

The King’s lips were soft beneath his own, and there was only a moment of hesitation before the pressure was returned. Bard felt more tension leave his body when he knew he wasn’t going to be shoved away and ordered killed for mooching the King of the Woodland Realm.

The arms around him tightened and he was pulled slightly closer as Thranduil deepened the kiss. Bard should have known the King would never be one to submit, even when intimate, but he was too tired to fight back so he let Thranduil take charge.

The kiss deepened and he parted his lips as invitation, one that Thranduil gladly took, but the second the elf’s tongue entered his mouth it was like a spark was set off inside of him. His hand tangled in the silky strands at the base of Thranduil’s neck as he pulled the King closer, desperate for more. They clawed at each other, as if starving men and only the taste of the other could quench it. Far too soon, the pair was forced to break away, gasping for breath.

Unable to tame the fire that had started within him, Bard sought out more flesh and attached his mouth to the pale neck before him. Sliding closer, he nipped and sucked at the flawlessly knit skin beneath his lips and he shivered when he heard a deep moan come the elf.

He trailed his lips back up the elf’s neck, stopping just long enough to suck a light bruise into the fair skin just below Thranduil’s jawline before he slotted their mouths back together. When their lips met, Thranduil let out a sigh, lazily responding to the desperate little keens that were coming from Bard.

Bard, once again desperate to get more than just a small sigh from the Elven King, let his hand wander back up towards the long strands of white hair that fell across Thranduil’s shoulders, this time tugging hard when he tangled his fingers deep within the roots.

Thranduil’s lips were suddenly ripped away and Bard was about to let out a whine of protest but he lost his voice when the King let out a deep, throaty groan. Bard’s lips went slack and he licked his lips, blood rushing straight down to his groin at the sight before him.

The normally reserved and cold Elven King was in complete disarray; his long near white hair now disheveled, his expensive silk gowns askew and his pale, immaculate skin now had a flush to it that could only be described as delectable. He was a complete and utter mess and it made Bard immensely proud that it was he who caused this. If only the people got to see their King, hot and bothered and _needy…_

At the thought of others being granted this lovely view, jealously flared up within the dragonslayer so he tugged again slightly and was rewarded well; another groan came from the elf. Thranduil’s eyes snapped open, his lustful gaze targeting Bard as his prey. Bard let out a slight whimper at the look in the King’s eyes, knowing now that he was just as desperate as he, and he surged back in, meeting Thranduil’s lips half way. All doubts were thrown out the window.

Teeth clashed as they met, this time their kiss more raw, more desperate than the new sweet exploration of the last. Hands were roaming everywhere; breathing became more labored, as they pressed closer together, nothing satisfying the undeniable craving of _more_.

There were a few tugs coming from his shirt before Bard felt the sudden stab of the winter’s chill on his chest. He pulled back with a gasp that was quickly turned into a light moan when soft and determined hands slid over his skin. Bard would have guessed that Thranduil’s was not a shy lover, which was confirmed, as the elf seemed to have no problem groping and caressing his newly exposed chest.

Thranduil’s lips attached to Bard’s neck and the bargeman’s head started to fall back until a finger brushed over a particularly sore and unattended to bruise on his ribs. Before he could stop himself, he jerked in response, a small cry of pain falling from his lips. He cursed himself as the hands that were just previously so adventurous disappeared all together.

Worry washed over Bard that he had completely ruined the moment and snapped the King back to reality, but any doubt flew out of his mind when those lovely hands were suddenly stroking him again. This time, his hands expertly avoided any wounds on his body and they travelled immediately downward till they stroked at the edge of Bard’s trousers. A shiver ran through Bard when one of the hands fingered under the fabric for a slight moment.

Bard caught Thranduil’s wrist and lifted it to brush his lips across soft knuckles. The King pulled back with one delicate eyebrow raised in question, but Bard just smirked and slid his hands up Thranduil’s body till they reached the ties at the neck.

“Mhmm, you are wearing far too many clothes for the occasion, _your majesty_ ,”Bard purred as he began to pull at the many lacings on the King’s gown.

Once he finally was able to pull the shirt open at all, Bard immediately started sucking on the elf’s newly exposed collar as he continued to work at the rest of the lacings. His fingers stilled momentarily and he let out a deep groan, breath ghosting over soft skin when there was a sharp pressure on his groin.

He bucked up into the touch, seeking more pressure and let out a little growl when he didn’t find any. Cheeky elf.

Bard nipped at the reddened skin beneath himself and desperately – and therefore a little more clumsily - worked the rest of the King’s gown open. Soon shirts were being shoved off shoulders, and belts were being hastily pulled at until both were bare as the day they were born.

Bard stalked forward until Thranduil was pressed up against one of the poles supporting the tent, leaning in to give him a dirty kiss. Before Thranduil could really grab at Bard, and secure him while he plundered his mouth, the man stepped back with a predatory look. He pulled a ribbon that had been tied to his wrist, quickly threw his hair up into a messy ponytail, and with a quick grin accompanied by a wink, the man dropped to his knees.

Thranduil had barely any time to process what was about to happen before Bard licked a hot, wet strip up the underside of his cock. His hips bucked up and he let out a groan, his head falling back against the pole with a thunk.

“Stars,” Thranduil breathed out.

Bard wasted no time swallowing him down, licking and sucking like a pro and Thranduil felt himself grow warm with jealousy at the thought of Bard on his knees, on his back – with someone else in general. Thranduil growled and his eyes snapped open, fingers grasping at escaped strands of Bard’s hair as the man’s head bobbed back and forth. He licked his lips at the sight of his member disappearing between those soft swollen lips and he choked when the bargeman suddenly took him down fully, some how managing to almost swallow his entire (admittedly large) length down this throat.

Bard’s hand wrapped around what little bit of Thranduil’s cock he couldn’t fit in, caressing the underside with his thumb before he pulled back with a gasp. His eyes flickered up to meet the King’s and the elf let out a groan, as he gazed down at the man below him. Bard looked absolutely wanton; chest heaving, lips glistening with saliva and pre-cum and one hand still wrapped around Thranduil’s painfully hard member.

Not being able to contain himself any longer, the elf hauled Bard up and tossed him on the bed, quickly retrieving the small bottle of oil in one of his many ornate tables. Bard bounced on the bed, breathless at the sudden change in pace and was soon joined by a needy elf.

Thranduil draped himself over the bargeman, letting his hands glide down his chiseled and healing body.

“So lovely, just like marble,” Thranduil murmured as he let his hands explore the vast expanse of muscle beneath his touch. Indulging himself a little, he tweaked a nipple as he ghosted past, enjoying Bard’s gasps. Thranduil smirked and continued lower, ghosting over the man’s erection before circling his puckered hole.

He pressed at the entrance once, loving the shiver that ran through the man beneath him before quickly slicking up three fingers with oil and settling in for his show. Thranduil slowly breeched him with one finger, moving as gently as he could when he saw the slight discomfort flash across Bard’s face. Eventually Bard was keening for more and Thranduil obliged, slipping in another finger to scissor right by the first one.

Bard was letting out rough grunts until fingers slid over the knot inside him and he let out a harsh cry of surprise. “A-ah!” he breathed out. Thranduil chuckled deeply and brushed over the knot again, enjoying the way Bard’s hips bucked up at the touch. One of Bard’s hands moved to touch his own member, but Thranduil was quick to stop him, catching his wrist.

“Mhmm, we won’t be doing that quite yet, I do not think,” there was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes and he brought both of Bard’s arms up, stretching them out along the bed above his head. He pressed down against his wrists with one hand, and Bard moaned at the slight pain. Without any sign, Thranduil slipped another finger into Bard, fucking him with his fingers until the bargeman was breathless and pleading beneath him.

“Aah – you tease. Put your cock where your fingers are and show me you know how to fuck like a King,” Bard’s darkened eyes met Thranduil’s and the elf groaned, slipping his fingers from the man.

“You should know better than to talk to a King like that,” Thranduil responded, but his words held no weight as he was already slicking up his own member. “You could be severely punished,” he loomed back over Bard and his cock nudged at his entrance.

Bard sucked in a deep breath, and cocked his eyebrow challengingly, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “You forget, I am now too a King, so like-wise should be exp – aah!”

Thranduil’s sudden intrusion caused Bard to throw his head back, bearing his neck invitingly to the Elven King. Thranduil leaned down and roughly sucked a mark onto the slick skin as he bottomed out. He stilled, not wishing to hurt the bargeman and with great patience, didn’t move until he felt Bard start to wiggle beneath him, which was a surprisingly short amount of time after.

“Quite impatient, are we,” Thranduil’s teasing tone not quite as convincing when breathless. He pulled back slightly and slammed back in, jostling the bed.

“Nugh, I’m – ah,” Bard tried to bite out, but he was unable to as Thranduil set a brutal pace, not wasting any time.

“No problem, I do not mind getting to the main event,” Thranduil’s voice wavered slightly.

The room was filled with deep panting and low occasional groans, but Thranduil felt it wasn’t enough. He stopped suddenly, ignoring the whine of protest beneath him and shifted his hips slightly before going right back to his pounding rhythm. Two thrusts later and he cracked a grin when Bard cried out loudly, knowing he had hit his mark.

Bard was falling to pieces beneath him and the sight was beautiful. The man’s skin was flushed, his head thrown back in ecstasy; lips hung open with moan after moan falling from them, hips desperately fucking back on his cock. Thranduil knew just then this was a sight he would not be giving up soon.

Soon, the noises Bard was making were absolutely wrecked keens and Thranduil felt the familiar tingle in the base of his spine as well. He picked up his pace and leaned closer, hair falling around them like a curtain, placing his weight on his free arm.

“Open your eyes,” he breathed. When Bard just moaned in response, he growled and repeated. “Look at me,” this time it was a command.

Bard groaned again and with great effort his eyes fluttered open to reveal dark brown eyes. Their gaze connected and Bard panted out a breath. “You’re going to cum without me even touching you aren’t you.”

Bard huffed out a laugh. “So full of himself.”

“Actually it is you who is full of me, no?” Bard groaned at the thought.

“Mhm, yes, do it; cum, just by the sound of my voice and fill of my _cock_ ,” Thranduil’s breathed, finally feeling himself teetering on the edge. Their movements became frantic and Bard’s legs wrapped around Thranduil’s waist, pulling him deeper inside.

“I want to you see you when you cum, I want you looking in my eyes, knowing who it is who is inside of you.” That was all it took, and within two more thrusts, Bard was crying out once more, hot strings shooting between them, dirtying their chests.

At the sight of Bard completely broken, moaning like a brothel whore, Thranduil stilled and came with a gasp, emptying himself into the man beneath him. He finally released Bard’s wrists and collapsed on top of the pliant form below him, both letting out an ‘oof’ at the contact. The room was silence except for heavy breathing as the two Kings tried to regain their breath and make sense of what had just happened.

Soon, Thranduil rolled over slipping from Bard, not missing the slight wince the man gave. Thranduil stood and retrieved two towels, which he wet slightly before moving back over to the bed. Bard watched him through drooping eyes, worried about the aftermath of their coupling, but Thranduil surprised him once again. He gasped when he felt the washcloth being slowly dragged over his warm body. Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, was cleaning him, post-coital.

Too shocked at what was happening, Bard could only watch as Thranduil cleaned off both of them, discard of the now dirty towels and return back to the bed. Without saying a word, Thranduil moved beneath the covers, leaving Bard still lying stark naked in shock near the bottom. Bard gulped.

He began to move to gather his clothes but stopped cold when Thranduil spoke. “What are you doing?”

Bard refused to turn, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders once more. “I should return home, get some rest my Lord.”

There was a shuffling behind him and he turned to see Thranduil looking at him expectantly, other side of the bed open for invitation. “Yes, I agree; you _should_ rest. But it is late, and you are exhausted, I will not have you stumbling through the dark streets of Dale in this state, _my_ _Lord_.”

Bard just blinked at him a few times, and when Thranduil’s gaze didn’t falter, he slowly moved to join the King in his bed. Bard felt like an alien in these rich sheets and he couldn’t help but moan when his aching body was finally settled within them. They must have been made with clouds, for they were the softest thing he’d ever touched.

He looked over to see Thranduil staring at him with an indistinguishable expression on his face. It was one he’d never seen on the elf’s face until now and it worried him greatly. But too soon it was gone and the elf was manhandling him once again. Bard started to protest, though stopped when he found himself being pulled back against a strong chest. He was being spooned by the Elven King.

“Go to sleep, dragon-slayer. Let your heart rest and body rejuvenate,” came the melodic voice and Bard suddenly felt too tired to question the situation.

His eyes dropped and his body sagged back into the sheets as he let himself shut down for the night. He was only able to process being tugged back tighter into the embrace and a brush of lips so light to his temple he wasn’t sure it had really happened at all, before he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
